Returning home, I followed my mom into the kitchen and began to observe the whole process of her cooking. Mom first put the flawless white tofu on the board, crackling, clanking, ding-dong cut into mahjong-sized squares, put into an empty dish; and a cleaned white chubby onion cut into chrysanthemum petals as beautiful white silk strips; and finally in a bowl poured some soy sauce, mixed with some water and stirred for a while.
Mom then turned on the gas, a flame instantly to the bottom of the black pot put on a red dress, then to the pot to some canola oil, not long after the pot on the smoke, was whirring hood smoke away. The oil in the wok boiled, and mom poured the tofu she had just cut into the wok, making a zippy sound. Mom with a spatula quickly turned up, but also from time to time to pour some soy sauce, into a variety of seasonings, although after the shredded green onions put in, and finally gently slightly turn, turn off the flame, a plate of fragrant Ma Po tofu is out of the pot.
I ate my favorite delicious food, thinking about my mom's hard work, and was grateful. I said to my mom, "Thank you, my good mom!"